


The End of Durin's Line.

by GendrysNorthernWench



Category: The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Death, Suicide, battle of the five armies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 15:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/623623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GendrysNorthernWench/pseuds/GendrysNorthernWench
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How exactly do the three heirs of Durin die? And how does Dis handle it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End of Durin's Line.

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise if the random POV switches get annoying/confusing. I really hope you guys like this, because I broke myself writing it. And as usual, I claim no ownership to any associated characters/names/places/events etc etc etc.

Thorin is the first to go down. A goblin spear, meant for Fili is lodged deep in his gut and if the metallic taste in his mouth is anything to go by, it’s hit at least one important organ. His cry of pain alerts his oldest nephew to the injury, and it’s with a precision and speed worthy of the heir or Erebor that the orc trying to take off his head has its throat slashed. The crimson stain on the front of Thorin’s tunic is growing by the second, and Fili drops to his knees to try and stop the bleeding, because this is his uncle, the man who raised him from a dwarfling; he’s been a father to both Fili and Kili, and dammit he will not die after finally reclaiming his ancestral home. Not after the crap they went through with the trolls, and the wood elves and all those fucking orcs. 

Thorin is barely conscious, eyes swimming in and out of focus, when he sees the grass green eyes and golden blonde hair of his nephew and heir. Thorin is glad to see the boy, because he’s always been slightly afraid of death –and he knows death is coming- and to have at least one of his boys there with him is comforting, even though he should be fighting. In Thorin’s pain fogged mind, he can’t seem to translate this into words. 

Fili doesn’t notice the snarling warg approaching from behind until it’s much too late.

Kili is posed on the slope of a hill, firing arrows left, right and centre. Every projectile flies straight and true, striking the intended target between the eyes –or occasionally the throat- and he feels invincible, because even though he can see the helms of dwarves littering the battle-field, there are so many more orcs, wargs and goblins dead and dying.  
Scanning the field, he spies his brother and that distinctive blonde hair of his a short way away, and he feels emboldened; until he sees that his brother is bent over someone, and cannot see the warg creeping up on him. 

An arrow is nocked, aimed and loosed so fast, that Kili is not sure there was not already an arrow primed. Still, Kili runs, slinging his bow across his shoulder with one arm, the other reaching for the broad sword at his hip, the motions so fluid, they look almost graceful. He screams in anger as the beast moves out of the way of his arrow, the fletching just catching the tip of its ear, the adrenaline is pounding through his body as Kili pumps his legs harder, cutting down any who try to get between him and his brother. If stone giants cannot keep them apart, in his mind, nothing can. 

But then, he’s screaming at Fili to move and his brother turns, just in time to come nose to snout with the warg, but Fili doesn’t have the space or time to land a solid, head removing blow before teeth are buried deep into the flesh of his shoulder, cutting through muscle and bone like a hot knife through butter.

Kili screams as his brothers arm flies up in the air. 

Fili is muttering words of reassurance to his uncle, and in the distance he can just hear the dull thud of arrows hitting their mark, and he knows it is Kili doing it. Because no being, elf, human or dwarf can strike as consistently as his baby brother. His uncle is fading fast and Fili, consumed in the grief of loss, sees his brothers arrow strike the blood soaked dirt a metre or so away too late, and the scream of ‘FILI’ is uttered a second too late, because he turns and there’s a warg almost on top of him, there’s not enough room for him to use his blades, and so he settles for head-butting the beast square between the eyes –so hard, it makes him dizzy- but the warg seems unaffected, and then its teeth are buried in his shoulder. 

For one blissful moment, Fili feels nothing, but then the fire comes, and it hurts and it burns and he can feel the razor like teeth cutting through sinew and bone and the agonising pain and sickening rip of his arms being torn from his body. He collapses backwards, head landing on his uncle’s chest, and he can hear the faintest of heartbeats, and then there’s a comforting hand on his head, stroking sweat soaked strands of hair from his eyes, and as his eyes fall shut, he sees Kili, beautiful, bright Kili, blade flashing in the dying sun, and he knows everything will be alright. 

Because he’s seen his baby brother, and as he loses consciousness, every happy memory he’s ever had with Kili flashes before his eyes in a beautiful kaleidoscope of colour and warmth. 

“I love you Fili” 

His world fades to black. 

Thorin forces his lead lined eyes open, just in time to see his precious Fili fall and even though he’s nearly dead, his hand manages to find its way to the crown of the boy’s head, which rests against his chest, where numb fingers stroke the silken strands. Through half lidded eyes, he watches as his youngest nephew, has an arrow shot through his throat, just as he reaches his brothers side. He offers the boy what he hopes is a loving smile. Thorin can feel his heartbeat slow.

“I love you Kili”

His world fades to black. 

Kili reaches his brother a moment too late, already he can see the older dwarf is barely conscious and as he tells him how much he loves him, Fili’s heart slows and his eyes close fully. His head is resting against their uncle’s chest, his hand wound around the strands of gold. They both look so peaceful, so untroubled, and in for the briefest of moments, Kili hates them, hates that they’ve left him alone, but the hatred is short lived, because he’s just felt an arrow piercing the back of his neck, the sharpened point bursts through skin, just above his adam’s apple, and his mouth rapidly fills with blood. 

He falls forward, and his last thoughts are of his mother; and he hates himself for leaving her. Hates the thought of leaving his mother alone, after all she’s lost. And with his final words the last heir of Durin’s line whispers;

“I love you mama. I love you Uncle Thorin’ 

His world fades to black. 

It should be a time of great celebration, the dwarves have reclaimed Erebor, the dragon Smaug is gone, and thousands of orcs, wargs and goblins have been destroyed. Instead, there is only suffering. All three heirs of Durin are dead, the former glory of the mountain kingdom destroyed by a century of housing a dragon.

But it is Dis, sister of Thorin Oakenshield, daughter of Thrain, daughter of Thror, who truly suffers. Her sons and her oldest brother taken from her, after she had lost so much; her home and her mother to a dragon, her grandfather to Azog the Defiler, her father to madness, her middle brother and husband during the battle of Moria, and now, her children, Fili her sun and her moon Kili, and the brother she adored from the day she was birthed. 

She is no longer real; she haunts the halls of Erebor, silent and unspeaking, face ashen and hair dishevelled. It happens on Kili’s twenty-second name day. 

She climbs to the highest peak of the mountain at sunset, and as the moon rises and the sun sinks, she steps backwards.

“I love you all”

Her world fades to black.


End file.
